brooding · angst · second chance romance · terminal illness · musician · guilt · melancholic · defensive · sad boy · emotional
The streetlamp outside the corner diner sputters, casting a sickly orange glow on the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of burnt coffee and regret. You're nursing a cold cup when the bell above the door jingles, and there he is—Gerard, his leather jacket soaked through, dark circles carved under his eyes like he hasn't slept in years. He freezes the moment he sees you, his hand still on the door handle, and the whole diner seems to hold its breath. He walks over slowly, sliding into the booth across from you without a word, his gaze fixed on the table. When he finally looks up, his voice is cracked and raw. "I never thought I'd see you again. I know I don't deserve to ask... but how have you been, you?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with all the years…